


Accept Your Fate

by HiddenEye



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Canon Compliant, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, F/M, Family Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Keith (Voltron) is a Mess, M/M, Other, Post-Canon, Post-War, pregnancy reveal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-07
Updated: 2018-11-07
Packaged: 2019-08-20 04:42:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16549106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HiddenEye/pseuds/HiddenEye
Summary: “I’m fine,” Keith says evenly, letting his hands swipe down his front to smooth down what little wrinkles his uniform has, disguising his clammy palms by being vain.“He’s not fine.” Kolivan says, an imposing figure behind his mother, staring Keith down as if he doesn’t have anything to do with this. “He’s twitching.”





	Accept Your Fate

**Author's Note:**

> tfw when kolivan had sex with your mum

“Keith?”

It’s distant, at most. Grained around the edges that Keith has to blink in order to sweep the disturbance away. “I’m sorry, can you repeat that?”

Krolia lets her eyes flit around his face in concern instead. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” Keith says evenly, letting his hands swipe down his front to smooth down what little wrinkles his uniform has, disguising his clammy palms by being vain. The line of newly recruited cadets he’s been assigned to keep an eye out curiously peaks over to their way, dutifully waiting for their commanding officer by the simulator in two lines.

“He’s not fine.” Kolivan says, an imposing figure behind his mother, staring Keith down as if he doesn’t have anything to do with this. “He’s twitching.”

“I’m not twitching,” Keith tells him, annoyance a burning hearth nestling in his chest at being seen through so easily. He doesn’t know whether it’s being aimed at Kolivan or himself. “I was caught off guard.”

Krolia doesn’t seem to think so. She’s still scrutinising him, an unreadable expression etched on her face, peeling him apart layer by layer in order to reach for a reaction he’s refusing to show. Keith only stares back, unmoving with his hands useless by his sides, thinking how there’s a chance he’s going to fix a fault he’s committed in terms of social interaction, and almost straightens his shoulders when she hums shortly.

Kolivan still looks unapologetically quiet from where he is, remaining stoic as always, as if he’s simply there to enforce Krolia’s words and watch Keith soak up the information fast enough without choking.

But, Keith swears there’s almost a glint in his eyes the moment Krolia makes that little sound, seemingly amused by how hard Keith tries to keep his vanity from being smudged under the heel of his own polished boots in front of his cadets.

If someone decides to pull him aside years ago, tell him that Kolivan is giving out a tiny ounce of the same aura Keith usually finds in his friends after they’ve done something to pride themselves stupid of, then he wouldn’t believe them.

As it is, there’s a small, hardly-there smile he dons the longer silence stretches. And it’s making Keith feel nauseous.

“Are you sure?” Krolia asks again, slowly this time.

She’s tentative, and it makes Keith have a tighter grip of himself when he realises the reason she keeps asking for his opinion is because she doesn’t want to upset him. It shouldn’t be that way; she deserves this type of happiness after having the chance snatched away from her, years of internalised grief hidden underneath the need to protect him and his father from harm. It’s time, he knows, for her to start something new.

Even if Kolivan will be giving her that.

Keith allows a smile to take place as he reaches for her hand, giving her a squeeze. “Of course, I’m sure,” he murmurs, and worry slowly unlatches from the corner of her eyes when she squeezes back, enveloping his hand with both of hers. “I’m happy for you, and I want what’s best for you.”

There’s a shine in her eyes then, and it makes him pull their connected touch to his lips for him to plant a kiss onto her knuckle. She hums, pleased and relieved, before she pulls him into a hug that he cooperates enthusiastically.

When Keith withdraws, it’s to see the soft adoration in Kolivan’s look as he looks at Krolia, and it makes something inside his chest twinge the slightest bit when Krolia turns to his way to give him a lovely smile of her own. It’s no secret then, with how they’re looking at each other, that they care deeply for the other enough that this will mark as one of the best memories of their lives.

Like a blooming tulip, Keith finds himself happy for them.

 

* * *

 

Keith is having whiskey for the night.

It burns on the back of his throat, it would probably make him hate himself in the morning tomorrow, but he still lets his eyes grill into the bold letters of its name on the surface of the bottle like his life depends on it.

He’s sitting in one of the vacant offices he now owns to get whatever paperwork done he’s been given that day, all compiled in a pad for him to scroll through while half of it has already been looked into. There’s another half more, and untouched for the past hour as he clutches his hair with his fingers.

It’s almost unlikely what has happened earlier that day, and Keith has a mind to just file it as a hallucination in this ungodly hour. But, the image of his mother’s smile has been bright, too real, and he’s sure no one can conjure that kind of happiness in his way as much as she has, with a valid exception of Shiro.

Then, he keeps thinking about Kolivan and how he’s just _there_ , letting her do all the talking. Keith can’t keep his pleased expression out of his head, as if Keith’s blessing really did bound something officially between them. As if he’s licensed to do that sort of thing.

It’s a good thing he’s not. He’s not up for standing at the altar and do the officiating when _he_ wants to be officiated. Someday, that is, if Shiro would take him.

It’s _surreal_. He doesn’t how he’s going to handle this, and he doesn’t know why the thought makes him aggressively jiggle his leg under his desk.

When the door to the office slides open, he’s just the verge of flinging himself off the surface of the table as he quickly straightens himself up. Shiro slows down in response, stopping just in front of the desk with tentative steps, a paper bag in his hand.

“Are you okay?” He asks carefully, letting his eyes run over his appearance with a flitting look.

Keith must’ve look like a maniac if Shiro’s asking him this. Keith doesn’t blame him, loves him too much to take it personally under what criticism that’s beginning to form under that look.

So, when the words, “My mother is expecting a kid.” tumbles out of his lips, it’s mostly to dump some of the burden he’s been backpacking in front of Shiro, point at it and say, _There it is. The bastard._

Shiro looks surprised rather than anything else. It’s expected, Keith thinks. Having to realise his _mother_ is pregnant —rather than seeing her as another Marmoran member— makes it seem as if he just dipped a toe in another dimension. It’s probably the age difference Keith knows that will exist between his half-sibling later, stretched far and wide.

But, it could be the fact that the long lost mother he thought he would never meet found him again three years ago, who he got to know again as an adult rather than to have her by his side for most of his life, talking to her as a stranger first then kin, has led this feeling of _detachment_ kneading uncomfortably underneath his skin.

He doesn’t know why he thinks this is an out of body experience. It shouldn’t be weird. She’s his _mother_ , he doesn’t have the right to be ungrateful.

“What?” Shiro lets out, blinking. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Keith agrees, flippant, running his fingers against the edge of the desk. “Kolivan’s the dad.”

And something twists in Shiro’s face until it turns into a morphed version of dreaded surprise. It resembles an astonishing duplicate of a blue cheese found on the ground; it’s the way it is, only dustier with dirt. It fills Keith with unstoppable joy to see he’s not the only one handling this information with that kind of reaction. “Well,” Shiro begins, mind racing for something to say as he puts the paper bag on the table. There may be doughnuts in there, sugar coated the way they both like. “They are close friends.”

“Oh, they’re not friends anymore,” Keith mutters, takes a swing of his whiskey, and sets the bottle down with a _thunk_. “I can’t believe I’m going to be a brother.”

It hits him then, at what he says. The thought latches onto his bones and forces him to his place, tunneling himself into this small room, preventing himself from moving while the words whirl around and around and around his mind in a 700mph carousel.

“Oh,” he says, and suddenly Shiro’s by his side, sitting on one of the arm rest before he’s snaking his arm across his shoulders, pulling Keith nearer that he gives in with a limp and distracted acceptance. “I’m going to be a _brother_.”

Keith knows if he cries now, he won’t be able to stop.

Shiro must have detected his increasing distress, and leans down to plant a kiss on top of his head. Keith drapes his own arm across his lap as he curls towards the warm body heat he emits, the buzzing underneath his skin subsides slightly from the way Shiro rubs his back in consolation. “You’re gonna be a great brother. You don’t have to worry about it.”

“I was thinking how Kolivan was the one to knock my mother up. I was scraping off the virtuals before it could kill me,” Keith rasps out, clutching onto Shiro’s shirt. “But then, the fact that I’m going to be a be a brother soon just makes me—”

He stops himself. Shiro hums sympathetically, pressing another kiss to his temple. “You know it’s alright to be nervous for a while. You don’t have to worry about it.”

“Being in a family again is what makes me feel like this,” Keith admits quietly. “I’m afraid I’ll fuck it up.”

He doesn’t need to explain to Shiro about the cause of this since he already knows. Sometimes, his younger years still stings when he thinks about, how the family hopping has taken a toll on his mental health enough for him to lash out against people who don’t deserve him like that. His behaviour hasn’t been acceptable, and all four families he’s been into gives him back to the orphanage in the end.

He doesn’t want to be someone who drives people away. He’s learn from that, but he can’t help but think he’s going to be horrible in reacting in front of a family again and his sibling and Krolia won’t like him—

“You’re thinking too hard again.” Shiro says softly.

Keith hasn’t realised Shiro has moved, both of them did, where his chair is turned away from the desk as he now faces Shiro. Keith has both hands held in Shiro’s as they rest on top of his knees, and Shiro’s looking up at him from where he’s kneeling on the ground, patiently waiting for him to come out of the hurricane of his thoughts.

He shouldn’t worry, Keith thinks, as the greys of those eyes slowly calms him and smoothes down the beat of his heart with tandem of his thumbing, sailing across his knuckles with soft and yet grounding touches. Especially when Shiro’s here, especially when he’s been with a family of his own all those years in space, loving them like they have been loving him. He knows how to be with them, how to care for them. It shouldn’t be any different than caring for another later.

Keith gives a squeeze of his hands, and Shiro gives him a smile that has Keith feel as if he’s on top of the world, breathless and sure, and there’s no stopping how he stands up to pull Shiro into a hug, arms wrapped tightly around this familiar person, this lover of his.

And when Shiro hides his face into his shoulder with a soft sigh, responding to his embrace with one of his own, it makes Keith know that one day, there’s a high chance this man is going to be his husband and then they’ll have a family of their own.

The alcohol might be taking over his thoughts for now, accelerating things more than it should, but never rings more true in the deepest part of his chest than this.

 

* * *

 

It turns out Krolia has no interest in staying on Earth _._ At least, not for now.

“I have a squadron under my division.” She says. “They’re young, but they’re reliable, and they’ll be aiding me in this mission until I get back.”

Keith thinks he’s never seen her look so frightening than this, cleaning the blasters she has in her hands. He’s seen her do this a lot of times, yes, but at the current moment she’s drilling him down, eyes sharp and challenging, with a tiny, barely visible bump apparent on the front of her suit that doesn’t stand out unless she stands at a certain angle. Even then, it’s almost doubtful she’s even carrying a child.

But, right now, she’s the embodiment of a mother rather than a soldier.

He has been the last resort in this. He’s the apple of her eye, Kolivan once told him after his many attempts of persuading her to stay. Maybe Keith would sweeten the deal by merely existing as her only son for more than two decades. He’s sceptical, but Kolivan looks so miserable for his normal standards that he must’ve lost so many battles with his mate, until he’s basically begging Keith to make her stay.

Keith silently tucks away the sight of Kolivan’s pinched mouth and worn eyes at the back of his mind, giving it a pat of satisfaction.

Blackmail, despite it being frowned at, has its uses later.

No one else dares to make a comment on her condition though, very much liking having their limbs still intact whenever facing one member of the space equivalent of special forces, especially this particular senior member of the Blade of Marmora. A young doctor once tried, but the burn of Krolia’s glare has wilted him so much that Keith almost pities him then.

“Kolivan won’t be following?” He asks, trying to sound casual rather than careful.

“No.” There’s strained patience in her tone as she clips her blasters to her belt. “He needs the Rebels to help him in finding hidden Marmorans that have gone out of our range, and they would need him here, in one place where it’s accessible for them to go to him. There’s no use in bringing him with me, especially when this will be a short trip.”

She makes it seem as if she was going to have a drive to town rather than being billions of stars away from Earth. Keith doesn’t blame her. When you’re flying a lot, distance can be nothing.

“You’re worried,” she says, accuses, and Keith doesn’t really know how to answer that as he crosses over her bedroom to peer out of the window, seeing nothing but the red sands that stretch far and wide. “Or you wouldn’t be here. Or he wouldn’t use you to make me stay.”

“I’m here because _I’m_ worried,” he tells her, giving her a pointed look that would’ve parred with her own stubborn gaze. He rests his hip against the window sill, loosely wrapping his arms around his waist. “And I don’t want anything happening to you if I can help it, especially when you’re going to be out of this solar system. But, if you’re so sure about this,”

He trails off, letting her see, letting her know. Krolia only stares back. “There will be only three cargo ships, and someone has to escort them here.”

“We can find someone else,” he suggests, watching her make her way towards him, stopping just in front of him. “A few of Matt’s fire fighter pilots would be able to help.”

She gives him a small smile at his response, reaching forward to brush his hair away from his forehead that he only looks back at her, pressing his thumb against the inside of his elbow. She lets her fingers run down the side of his face, trailing down the scar on his cheek. “Your father would’ve be proud to know that you sound like him despite looking like me.”

It makes Keith vulnerable to this confession; it always does whenever she brings up the man between them, when she compares him to that man in any shape or form, and he can’t help how he has to look away briefly to collect himself.

She chuckles, enamoured by the gesture, and cups his cheek with her palm so that she can tilt his head to her way and press her forehead to his. “He tried everything to make sure I was comfortable, even if I was still like this.”

She runs her hand down her abdomen. “You can imagine how he would be when I’ve gotten bigger from carrying you,” she continues fondly, and Keith looks into her eyes, sees how they’re shining with memories he has no idea of knowing. “An annoyance sometimes, always in my space than he should be because he thinks I might pop everytime I try to sit down or walk out for some air.”

Keith winces. “I’m just—“

“I know,” she says, and he feels his heart might burst from how full it feels the moment she slides her cheek over his, her soft hair tickling his neck. The Galran way of showing affection always seep deep into his bones and makes him feel blissfully languid. “I know you’re worried. And I don’t blame you.”

When she leans back, she cups his cheek again, the lavender of her eyes soft and assuring, and he’s pulled into them willingly. “I’ll be back before you know it. If it makes you feel any better, I’ll have you on emergency.”

It does, in more ways than one. Keith bites into the inside of his bottom lip, contemplative, wanting her to stay and yet wanting her to have the freedom to herself before she’s advised not to. The latter rolls over his mind more, churning and digesting the thought.

He nods then, because she deserves this chance before it’s taken away from her. The overwhelming need to please her runs through his veins, where he’ll do anything to give her what she wants. “Okay.”

And then, she’s smiling as brightly as the other day, just as beautiful, and he feels an overwhelming love for her that he doesn’t stop himself from hugging her again, bringing her close to him.

He realises that he’ll do anything to make her this happy again. He’ll vow to himself that if someone or something is going take that from her, he’ll destroy them on the spot.

He sees her off, with Kolivan standing beside him as they both watch the ship she pilots lifts off the ground. It hovers for several seconds, before the ship swerves up and slingshots through the atmosphere, with several of others following behind, where they go smaller and smaller until both men won’t be able to see those ships within the Earth’s skies any longer.

“She insisted, I assume?”

Keith runs his fingers through his hair, feeling as if something is hanging onto his shoulders, before he sighs and faces Kolivan, who still has his face tilted to the clouds. “Yeah. Nothing much I can do.”

Kolivan says nothing at that, merely lowering his head down and levels him with a look; Keith realises it’s soft, exasperatedly fond as it can be, and Kolivan would’ve been laughing quietly if he allows himself the privilege. “Not all of us can, for that matter.”

It strikes Keith as mirthful then, at how smitten the Leader of the Blades look towards Keith’s mother.

He doesn’t stop the soft laughter in the shake of his shoulders, and Kolivan doesn’t comment on the soft jibe as he merely looks faintly amused.

 

* * *

 

Expanding the shack might be the best decision Keith has ever made in his life.

The Garrison is willing to help him on that, having people come over to where the lone house still stands quietly in the middle of the desert with blueprints and tools. They scout around the place, find Keith’s eye with almost a wary look, and tactfully informs him that if given permission, they would bring down the whole thing and start over.

But, Keith has put his foot down in leaving his old house the way it is. He knows the condition of the place might be questionable to some —the pipes are old, the heater broken, the walls look like they would topple under one huge gust of air— but it’s _his_ home, the only part of his father he remembers. Keith is not going to demolish it completely and that would be final.

It takes them months, almost a year, and when it’s done, Keith finds himself standing in the middle of the living room; it’s empty, sheets of plastic thrown over the floor while buckets of paint are left for him to paint with, brushes and rollers left on the kitchen counter, while Shiro’s talking to the officers outside as he settles whatever future paperwork that needs to be done later.

Keith insists on doing this when the Garrison offers to finish it all up in one giant bow. He wants to be part of this new life he’s making for himself, for his new family.

“I can’t believe this house has three actual bedrooms now.”

Krolia sits on one of the chairs at the dining room, going through the boxes of the shack’s old belongings. She’s bigger now, in her third trial master as she abandons her suit and opts to wear baggy shirts and a pair of jeans. It suits her, he thinks fondly. It makes her look so comfortable and homey that he doesn’t resist the walk to where she sits.

“There used to be only one bedroom where we would sleep, since the guest room was used as your father’s study.” Keith watches the way she takes out a book, letting her fingers run across the leather clad spine, thumbing the golden font of the title. “That room would be a bit of a mess, since we keep your toys there too, but,”

“It’s him,” Keith finishes for her, reaching in to take out an old Neil Armstrong bobblehead from the box. He shakes it, sees the way the astronaut nods violently, and recalls the way his younger self would laugh hysterically every time his father tries to catch his attention with the figurine. “Most of these collected dust on the shelves. I didn’t know what to do with them when I got back.”

He remembers storming through the front door to his house after leaving the Garrison, remembers the sharp anger digging deep into his sternum as he pulls all the packed boxes from the storeroom, ignoring how hard his hands shake as he roughly puts it down.

He remembers shoving everything back to the place they used to be, desperate to have the same sense of normalcy before the fire, before pilot error, before his life has been nothing but a shuffle of cards ready to be spread across the table and picked up again.

Keith settles the bobblehead on the table, beside the book. He knows Krolia is watching him. “You’ll have your own room, and a nursery for the baby,” he says, and when he looks up, it’s offering her a smile. She’s giving him that look again, that look of pain and sympathy rolling into one morbid emotion that Keith wants it gone. “And a guest room. Who knows, maybe Shiro and I would visit someday.”

He sits on the other chair beside her, wanting to look away but not allowing himself to.

“Keith,” she begins, and it’s quiet and firm all at once that he tilts his head to the side in response, not trusting his own voice. “This house is under your name.”

He nods, taking his time in collecting himself. “I know, but I want to give it to you.”

“I can’t accept it.” Krolia tells him, regretful.

He stares at her. “Why?”

He sees how she turns her hand so that her palm faces up — a peace offering, and he slips his own fingers between hers before she gives him a squeeze. “I’ve been meaning to tell you this, but Kolivan and I were planning to return to the main base once I’ve delivered here. There’s still so much that needs to be done after the war that we can’t let it fester any longer. Several of our bases, other than those of the rebels, would be the point between several galaxies to get to another.”

“You’re a pitstop.” He says, and she gives out a chuckle.

“In a way. The Blade of Marmora will help what we can, even if they can’t exactly see us.”

She pauses then, eyes softening when he doesn’t reply at once, merely gazing back at her with something heavy hanging in his chest, something he doesn’t want to admit. “I can stay, if you want me to.”

“I can’t do that,” Keith says, knowing this long ago. Her thumb grazes against his, letting her gaze drop to it. “I can’t stop you from doing what you want.”

The claim makes her eyes snap back up, and there’s a sense of contemplation in that look that makes Keith perch on the edge of his seat. “You never can, can you?” She asks, and it’s curious more than anything else, not condescending in a way some might take it.

“You’re my mother,” he tells her earnestly. “And I would do anything for you.”

It looks like she’s struck then, the impact of his words makes her hold onto her bump with the spread of her other hand. Keith thinks he might have done something wrong when he notices the shine in her eyes, a film of unshed tears gleaming back at him that he finds himself leaning nearer towards her in mild alarm, both of his hands holding onto hers.

“Mum,” he calls out in concern, but she’s tugging him forward, pulling him within the fold of her arms with a tight grip.

“You’ve always been a blessing for me and Heath,” she whispers. “And there isn’t a day where I don’t thank what I have with him,” She takes a breath, one that threatens to shudder her whole body as she cups the back of his neck, fingers burying in the strands of his hair. “Where I have you.”

It chokes him, this kind of confession that renders him useless in a way that an enemy could’ve just shoot him and he would’ve been too wrapped up in this to notice. He’ll go down that way, if that’s the case. He’ll save her first, but he doesn’t mind being consumed so thoroughly with her love when he perishes.

What a way to die.

There’s the sound of the back door being opened, and Shiro pauses at the doorway when he sees them hugging each other. “Oh,” he lets out, hand still around the doorknob as both Keith and Krolia pull back. “I’ll come back—“

“Come here,” Krolia says firmly. It leaves no room for argument, Keith knows, so it’s funny to see Shiro hesitating for a second longer before he closes the door behind him, meekly walking towards her as requested.

This time, she pulls him into a hug, and Shiro’s so surprised that he just lets himself be embraced in a circle of a mother’s arms, bending awkwardly from where he stands.

He steals a glance at Keith, answering her hug with his own while Keith only smiles back, leaning against his chair. When it’s obvious he isn’t going to help, Shiro focuses on the Galra in his arms, rubbing her arm up and down slowly. “Krolia?”

“You’ll have to take care of this house with Keith.” Shiro blinks, and he’s not given the chance to reply when she leans back to take his face in her hands. She’s stern this time, and Shiro’s surprise melts into something more attentive. “I don’t want a stranger living here when I get back unless it’s you, Keith, or anyone else with your names. Understood?”

Keith takes great pleasure in seeing the way Shiro slowly reddens as the implication of the words sink in. It always does, especially when the man is at his mother’s mercy.

Shiro timidly clears his throat, shifting slightly in his bent position. His hands are still awkwardly on her arms as if he’s afraid to put them anywhere near her swelling tummy, his cheeks slightly smooshed from where she has him in her hold, while his eyes darts everywhere but at the woman in front of him. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Good.” She gently pats his cheek, causing Shiro to flush harder, before she lets him go.

“We’ll start painting,” Keith announces, finally taking pity on Shiro when he stands up and curls his hand around his wrist. Keith tugs him towards the living room. “If you need anything, just call us.”

She gives him a nod, already going through the boxes they’ve abandoned before. “Will do.”

“Right.” Keith grabs the brushes and rollers by the counter, and once they’re out of range, Shiro lets out a breath.

“What was that about?” He asks, breaking away from Keith to haul the buckets of paint to the middle of the clearing.

“A little heart to heart.” Keith shrugs, watching the way Shiro squats down to open the lid with a pen knife. “It might’ve gotten out of control for a moment.”

“I thought I did something wrong,” Shiro admits, exposing the cream coloured paint. “I was ready to grovel by her feet and make an eternity’s worth of apology.”

Keith laughs, letting Shiro put aside the tin cover, before Keith is pulling Shiro up to plant a kiss onto his lips. “She’s a forgiving person.”

“Didn’t say she wasn’t,” Shiro hums, wrapping his arms around him when Keith presses another kiss by the corner of his lips, cupping his jaw as he does so. “But, I was ready.”

“Of course.”

“Also,” Shiro drawls out, and Keith can see the blush making an appearance again, causing the scar on his nose to stand out. “That thing she was talking about, at the last part,”

He trails off, seemingly shy, but he’s looking at Keith with something so raw and hopeful that it burns through his own senses until he’s forced to duck down.

What _can_ he say to that, though?

Keith runs a hand over the chest in front of him, smoothing the cloth of his shirt as he tries to think of something that won’t make him combust. “Later,” he lets out in the end. When he lifts his head, it’s to see the same kind of love he has for Shiro in those eyes, so overwhelmingly full that it fills his heart to the brim. He reaches forward to let the back of his fingers brush against the apple of his cheek, and Shiro leans into it readily. “We’ll talk about it later.”

Shiro holds onto his hand and directs his lips into the inside of his wrist, kissing him softly there. “Alright.”

 

* * *

 

“You’re panicking.”

“I’m not,” Keith answers tersely, running his fingers through his hair.

“You are,” Hunk insists from where he’s sitting on the floor, squashed between Lance and Pidge as all of them came to support Krolia and Kolivan. “You’re pacing too much.”

“I’m _not_.” Keith repeats firmly.

It’s been an hour, and there’s hardly any noise behind the closed doors, no way of indicating if anything is going as smooth as he prays or badly enough that he’ll just burst through without a second thought. Only the father of the baby is allowed inside, be damned.

“He really is.” Romelle points out from beside Allura, where both of them prefer to stand near the trio, and it’s better for Lance to loop an arm around Allura’s leg as he hugs her close.

“I’m surprised he hasn’t burned a hole through the floors yet.” Pidge quips, rubbing an eye with the heel of her palm.

Keith shoots them a wane glare, wanting to bark out a response. But then, Shiro is in his sight as he snakes an arm around his shoulders, pulling him nearer so that Keith steps into the bubble of his space from where he’s leaning against opposite wall of the hallway.

“She’ll be fine,” Shiro assures him gently, his hands rubbing his shoulders. “You know this. She’s always strong in handling what she needs to do.”

Keith meets the gentle grey of his eyes, searching for his comfort. Then, he heaves out a sigh, letting his forehead fall onto Shiro’s collarbone. “Yeah.”

There’s a sharp cry that erupts through the quiet hallway, unmistakably high pitched and new, and it causes a frenzy as everyone quickly straighten themselves up with small sounds of exclamation escaping their lips.

Keith springs out of Shiro’s embrace, jitters bouncing his bones as he agonisingly waits for anyone of the doctors to come out while the crying continues. It’s still faint from behind the closed doors, but it’s _there_ , and it makes him too anxious.

The doors swing open and one of the doctors come walking out. She’s still in her scrubs, has a little blood on her gloves that makes Keith stare at them openly. “Hello, everyone. My name is Doctor Mia,” she says, pulling his attention towards her. “I helped Krolia give birth along with Doctor Riz, Doctor Jamie, and our Galran doctor, Prok.” She zeroes Keith with a smile. “Congratulations, Mr. Kogane, you have a sister.”

Keith chokes on his own breath as his friends cheers around, slapping onto his shoulder that he almost teeters over from the force. Either that’s the case, or he’s so relieved until his body almost refuses to hold himself up, and there’s no stopping the small laughter that shakes the next of his words when he asks, “How is she? My mother?”

“She’s fine, just resting a bit while we wash the baby,” Doctor Mia says. “Prok says the baby is healthy too, she has all her fingers and toes, has perfect eyes and a nose, and also,” she arches her eyebrows. “A tail.”

“A tail.” Keith echoes weakly.

“I’m pretty sure neither Kolivan or Krolia has a tail?” Lance says, confused.

“One of them probably skipped a generation of tails,” Allura says, grinning. “Now, the little one has it.”

“That was what Prok says too,” the doctor agrees. “Well, once we’re finished, all of you would be able to come in and visit, but I advise to not overcrowd them too much. Giving birth is a tiring process, after all.”

Shiro smiles at her, taking over for a while when Keith isn’t able to answer, something he is grateful for, from how he’s rooted to the spot. “Thank you, doctor.”

She nods. “Captain.”

Doctor Mia disappears back into the room, and Keith is able to see a glimpse of people crowding at the side to attend to the baby, before the barrier of those doors come swinging close.

It feels like hours later, but the doors open again to reveal the tall Galran doctor, who gives Keith a nod before he turns to the right, followed by all the human doctors that Doctor Mia mentioned trailing behind him like ducks.

Keith licks his dry lips, before he’s stepping forward and pushing the door open while everyone else tentatively follows behind, peeking over his shoulder when he suddenly stops near the doorway.

Laying on the bed with a bundle of baby in her arms is Krolia. She looks wearier than usual, but there’s no mistaking the glow she emits, the kind of happiness that you would soak in for days and nothing would dare cut through it. Kolivan is sitting by her side, having a smile of his own from where he stares at his child, content, his hand hovering near his daughter’s face as he brushes away her hair. It’s a good look, Keith realise, having them all together like that.

Krolia catches Keith’s eye and lets out a bright smile, and it makes him heave in a gust of air at how breathtaking she appears.

“Come,” is all she says, and Keith lets his feet guide him to her call when he stands on the other side of her bed, letting his hand fall onto her shoulder.

The baby sleeps on despite everything, unaware of the kind of reactions she pulls the moment news comes out she’s being born to this world. Keith stares at her, takes in her features that he’s able to recognise Krolia’s eye shape and Kolivan’s distinctive skin colour, before the baby gives a wrinkle of her nose.

“Congrats,” Keith says, and then he’s turning to Krolia, smiling as he leans down press a lingering kiss to the side of her head. “She’s beautiful.” He whispers, and she tilts her head to brush her cheek against his with a hum.

“She is, isn’t she?” Krolia chuckles, letting the back of her finger brush against the baby’s cheek when she looks down again. “Took her long enough to come out, I was afraid she was going to get too comfortable in me.”

Keith lets one corner of his mouth lift up, taking her in, taking in this new family of his when he meets Kolivan’s gaze, who smiles at him in return.

His friends come trickling in, murmuring their words, cooing softly at the baby while some have conversations with Kolivan. Keith feels the way Shiro stands beside him, a hand resting on the middle of his back as he talks to Krolia, a constant warmth on his side that Keith feels himself leaning into the touch.

Years ago, if anyone told him he would have everyone he loves by his side later in his life, he might not believe them. It’s hard for him then, but all the wait and the work has been worth it. He’s here, surrounded by love, and he won’t have it any other way.

Never in his life has he imagined this, but he has it. And he’ll keep everything so near to his heart that there would be a thin chance of him forgetting this warm feeling anytime soon.

He has this, and he has them. There is all there is to it.


End file.
